On A Floor
by Little Miss Thalia Grace
Summary: "Any reason in particular we're sitting on the floor?" "Not really." He held out his hand. "Voldemort." "Quirrell." Quirrelmort Muggle!AU


**A/N: So... Like my many other stories and more to come, this is dedicated to KK94 and NimueTheSorceress. **

**Not that I own anything or something.**

**On A Floor**

Tom Riddle (better known to others as Voldemort) was what you could call a free spirit. He enjoyed staying out late against the better judgement of his roommate, Severus, defying the rules many people liked to force upon him, and getting layed. Many, including himself, would say that he had Madgame with the Bitches.

He had everything he could have possibly wanted as the small, bullied orphan he was not too long ago, yet he still felt like something was missing. A piece of him was missing, it felt like a giant whole in the middle of his chest. It didn't hurt, but it tingled when he saw another couple together. Which was absurd, seeing as anyone who knew him would know that he just didn't _do _relationships.

Then again, anyone that knew him would know that he would _not _usually be sitting in the middle of the Gardening section in the London Library at noon on a Saturday. Truth be told, _he _didn't know what he was doing here. Whenever he was around anything Plant-Oriented, mostly Flower-Related, He felt that hole in his chest feel just a little more complete.

"C-Can I help you?" A voice beside Tom stuttered. He was knocked out of his boredom-induced trance and swivelled his head around. The man wasn't anything out of the ordinary, Light brown hair cropped short, soft blue eyes that really would have been better suited for a girl, Purple Jumper and Blue Jeans. But Tom felt a tingle in his tummy as he looked at him.

"No. I'm good." Tom replied, but made no move to get up. Instead, he patted the spot on the ground beside him. "Wanna join me?"

The man gave him a weird look but sat down anyway. "Any reason in particular we're sitting on the floor?"

Tom felt the tingles in his tummy spread when the Man spoke. "Not really." He held out his hand. "Voldemort."

The man looked at him a while. Tom felt himself blush. Despite what many people thought, he had many self-esteem issues about his looks- After all, it's not like they were anything to be proud of. Sunken Cheek bones, short Gray hair slicked back, dark red eyes, small slitted nose and horribly gaudy pale skin.

"Quirrell." The man finally answered back, shaking his hand. He gave a small smile and Tom felt the tingles flutter faster. "Sorry if i'm being rude, but is Voldemort you're actual name?"

Tom felt himself blush again. What was wrong with him? "er, no. It's tom. But my dad was called Tom too and... I'm not exactly a fan of him."

'Quirrell' nodded. "Makes sense, Voldemort."

"So is Quirrell you're real name?" Tom felt himself asking, before mentally slapping himself. "If it's okay to ask, of course."

Quirrell smiled again, this time a bit more brightly. "It's okay. And no, it's my last name. My first is Quirinus, so i'm not really a fan of using it."

This time, Tom nodded. "Makes Sense, Quirrell."

Quirrell let out a chuckle and Tom's heartbeat quickened. _What was happening to him? _"But seriously, why are you sitting on the floor?"

"_We_," Tom corrected. "_We _are sitting on the floor. And I don't know. It's not like I woke up this morning and thought 'Hey, I'm going to sit on the grimy old floor of a Library', it just happened. But now i'm glad it did cause I met you and..." He took a breath. "I'm rambling, aren't I?"

Quirrell let out a full blown laugh, and Tom felt something inside him change. He wasn't exactly sure what, and at this moment, he didn't really care. When Quirrell calmed down, he said with a huge smile, "Yes, you were. But don't worry. I'm glad I met you too, but i'm not sure why."

Sensing the last bit as teasing, Tom let a smile show on his face. "Oh please, you know you love me. Who wouldn't?" He threw his arms in the air dramatically, slapping Quirrell lightly in the face. He let out another laugh and pushed Tom's arm away.

They continued like this for the next few hours, talking about nothing in particular and teasing eachother excessively. Tom told Quirrell about his childhood in the orphanage and his secret passion for dance, and in trade Quirrell told him about his crappy childhood with many narrow-minded bullies that constantly picked on him for being 'girly' and his love for Jane Austin and flowers, which was the reason he was in the gardening section in the first place.

Tom didn't know why it was so easy to talk to Quirrell when he could barely hold a conversation with anyone else. Maybe it was the way his blue eyes (that subconcsiously became Tom's favorite colour) seemed to make Tom's knee's turn to jelly, or how he seemed to be hanging off Tom's every word as if they were the most important thing he had every heard in his life, making Tom feel like he was actually worth a damn.

Soon enough, both their butts were numb and Quirrell had the sense to check the time. "Oh my Rowling," He exclaimed, getting up. "We've been here for Six hours!"

Tom was surprised too, and was sure it showed on his face. Six hours? It hadn't felt like five minutes. "Wow." Was all he said.

"Yeah," Quirrell agreed. "I better go." He got up, and Tom stood up too, just realizing how stiff his legs were. Quirrell seemed sad, and Tom knew why. If he felt even a small percentage of what Tom was feeling, it hurt to leave.

"Give me your phone." Tom demanded. Quirrell raised an eyebrow but complied. Tom punched in his number and handed it back. "Call me sometime. I'd like to do this again."

Quirrell snorted. "Sitting on the ground?"

Tom grinned. "I was thinking somewhere fancier. Know any good restaurants?"

"Did you just ask me out?"

Tom's grin widened. "Yes. I did."

Quirrell smiled too. "Then I accept. And wipe the grin off your face."

"Never." plucking up his (admittedly limited) courage, he leaned down and kissed Quirrell's lips. The kiss was everything he could have possibly wanted. It was simply undescribable. After what seemed to be eternity, they pulled apart.

"Call me soon," panted a _very _breathless Tom.

"Trust me, I will" said an equally breathless Quirrell. With one last glance, he walked out of the aisle, leaving Tom to slide back down to the floor.

What was he doing? He wan't any good with realationships, or even committment in general. He couldn't do this. Quirrell... Quirrell was too good to be with someone like him. He hadn't known love all his life, he didn't know if he could love Quirrell the way that Quirrell deserved. He felt his heart constrict. Quirrell didn't deserve him. He was worthless, a freak. Justlike thay told him at the orphanage.

But then he remembered Quirrell. Quirrell's smile, Quirrell's laugh, the way his hands moved while he spoke, the passion in his voice when he was talking about one of the things he loved, the way his eyes were locked on his face when Tom talked about one of his many childhood tragedys.

Tom figured he could give this Relationship thing a try.

He hadn't even noticed the hole in his chest diappeared until he was at his apartment.

**END!**


End file.
